When the Wolves Come Howling
by xXWrittenSinsXx
Summary: In his life, Harry Potter has made many enemies. He feared that someday his enemies would retaliate, not by attacking him, but by attacking his family. In the summer before Albus Potter's sixth year, his fears become a reality. An old enemy and grudge has caught up with him, but it's his youngest son who has to bare the consequences for the rest of his life. Scorpius/Albus Severus.


A dragon of ember and smoke arose from the ashes, unfurling its vivid red and orange wings. It reared its head back and a shower of molten embers escape from its jaw, swirling through the night like fireflies. Hugo oohed and aahed loudly, the fire glimmering off his wide blue eyes. He reached out a hand to touch one of the floating embers, but Rose smacked his hand away with the what-are-you-stupid look she had perfected years ago. With a flick of her wand, Lily sent the fiery dragon into a nosedive back into the flames, where it burst into a cloud of embers and sparks.

As Albus watched them, he had to fight to keep his eyes open, the smell of the campfire and the cool summer night breeze threatening to lure him to sleep. Times like these, sitting beneath the stars with his family gathered around him and a fire crackling at his side, were his favorite. The fire was a tradition they had started a long time ago, back when Al and Rose were frightened little first years about to start Hogwarts, and Lily and Hugo were crying about them being away. It had been Al's idea, always a sucker for Lily's tears. Every Friday for the rest of that summer, they'd all gather at the Potters' house for a fire while the adults hung out in the house. Five years later and the tradition still held.

Al stretched out, stifling a yawn, and flopped back into the cool grass. He got a glimpse of the full-moon, glowing brightly in the dark night sky, before his eyes slipped closed.

"Somebody tell a ghost story," Lily said.

"I will," James offered. He cleared his throat before he begun, "Once upon a time, in a land far, far away—"

"Are you trying to tell a ghost story or a fairytale?" Lily interrupted. Al snorted from where he laid. "Let Rosie do the story telling. Books are her forte after all. Come on Rose, dazzle us."

"I don't know about dazzling, but I know this story about a necromancer who was driven mad by ghosts," Rose said offhandedly.

Lily exclaimed eagerly, "Ooh, tell it!"

"Let's not," Hugo piped in, a nervous tremor in his voice.

"Don't be a baby Hugo. Come on Rose, let's hear it."

"Okay," Rose said, and Al could tell by the tone of her voice that she had been hoping Lily would insist. He opened his eyes and rolled onto his side so he could see her, interested. Rose always had the best stories. Rose leaned forward, causing the fire to cast shadows on her freckled face. "This is a true story. Long ago, there was this powerful necromancer named Serengeti. Serengeti could not only see and speak to the dead, he could command and raise them as well. With a flick of his wrist, he could transform a graveyard to an army of undead. He abused the powers and forced the ghosts to do his bidding—his dark bidding."

Rose dropped her voice a notch lower and they all leaned closer as she continued, "He had a list of all the people who had ever wronged him. One by one, he had the ghosts kill them. Poor old Mrs. Greeny, who had once tattled to the ministry about Serengeti's fascination with the dark arts, was found hanging in her living room, dead. Mr. Poe, Serengeti's old boss, was found locked in his still running car in the garage, killed by carbon monoxide poisoning. The muggle police wrote both cases off as suicide, and the Ministry of Magic couldn't prove they were wrong. Only Serengeti and the ghosts knew better. Name by name, Serengeti had the ghosts kill the people on that list, until—"

Rose paused for dramatic effect and they all held their breaths.

"—the ghosts decided to get even."

Rose's voice was barely more than a whisper as she continued, "They couldn't kill him like they had the others. He'd see them coming and send them away before they could do anything. So, they had to come up with a different method. The ghosts banded together and gathered outside Serengeti's bedroom window as he slept. As one, they let out a high-pitch wail—_awhooo_."

Rose drew the sound out eerily and Hugo whimpered.

"Serengeti nearly died from fright alone. He sent them away, but more just came in their place. Night after night this continued, the ghosts wailing and howling outside his window until Serengeti finally couldn't take it any loner. Driven to insanity, he took his own life. Now, they say his ghost haunts the old town he used to live in. He'd find perfectly innocent people and kill them in the same way he had died, by howling at their window every night until they went mad and took their own lives."

Rose's lip pulled into a smirk as she said, "That's why they call the town Godric's _Hollow_. They say if you listen real close, you hear Serengeti howling in the night, taking his next—"

An eerie howl tore through the night and everyone jumped. Every eye went to the woods in the distance. For a long moment, nobody moved, just starring at the woods, and then, James let out a nervous chuckle.

"Okay, you're good," James murmured uneasily.

"I didn't do that," Rose said nervously, eying the woods. "You don't suppose there are wolves in those woods, do you?"

"Britain doesn't have wolves, at least not in the wild," Al said absently, eyes fixed on the distant tree line. He shivered, the hairs on the back his neck rising. He suddenly felt on edge, his previous lethargy gone. "They've been extinct for ages."

Lily muttered under her breath, "Well it sounded like a wolf."

"It's Serengeti!" Hugo whimpered. "I told you not to tell that story! Now you've made him mad!"

"Oh, sod off Hugo," Rose snapped anxiously. "It was just a story. It wasn't true."

As they talked, Al continued to look at the woods. He had to agree with Lily; It had sounded like a wolf, but he knew that was impossible. Al distinctly remembered the long, _long_, lecture Lysander Scamander had given him about wolves being extinct when Al had jokingly asked him if he had seen one during the month his family had spent backpacking in the wilderness. But, if it wasn't a wolf, what was it? Al strained to see in the dark, the light of the full-moon allowing him to make out the first couple rows of trees before the woods merged into a black shadow of nothingness.

"Let's just go inside," Hugo begged. "The fire's almost out anyways, and it's getting cold."

"What, worried Serengeti is going to come and get you?" James taunted him, some of his usual cockiness returning in his voice.

Al opened his mouth to scold James for teasing poor Hugo, but the words caught in his throat. A flicker of movement between the trees caught his eye. He strained to see it again, not sure if it had been a trick of the moonlight or not. His eyes narrowed as he searched for the source of the movement, and then, he saw it: a streak of auburn fur and the unmistakable slink of a large animal. A memory flashed vividly through his mind and for a moment, he was six again, huddled in the living room with Lily and James, hanging off his father's every word as he spoke of the Final Battle. Especially when he had spoken of—

"Inside!" Al yelled, leaping to his feet and startling everyone. "Everyone get inside! Now!"

No sooner had the words left him, a huge wolf-like creature burst out of the treeline in the distance, its auburn fur catching in the light of the full-moon. Lily, Rose, and Hugo screamed, James swore, and they all took of running towards the house. Lysander Scamander was right. There weren't wolves in Britain. Al knew exactly what _that_ was, and the knowledge kicked his body into overdrive, fear inspired adrenaline pumping through him. He chanced a glance back and saw the werewolf was gaining rapidly, but the house was close. They'd just make it—

Out of the corner of his eyes, Al saw Lily stumble and crash into the ground. Without a second thought, without even the slightest pause, Al skidded to a stop and changed direction so fast he had to shoot out a hand to steady himself. The werewolf honed in on Lily, and Al plunged his hand into his pocket. He pulled out his wand just as the werewolf leapt into the air, aiming straight for Lily.

"Reducto!" Al shouted.

The spell hit the werewolf square in his chest and sent him hurdling backwards. Al dove for Lily and yanked her to her feet.

"My ankle. I twisted it," Lily gasped out, voice filled with panic and fear as she hobbled on one leg.

"Run," Al told her, pushing her towards the house. "Just run. As fast as you can. Don't look back. Go!"

Lily obeyed without hesitation, setting off at a painfully slow, unsteady jog. She didn't look back, just like Al had told her. If she had, she would've seen that Al wasn't following her. The werewolf was already recovering, pushing itself to its feet. Every instinct in Al's body screamed for him to run, to flee, but he stomped them down, his grip on his wand tightening. The werewolf could catch Lily easily from this distance, too easily now that she was injured. They couldn't both make it, but if he stalled, Lily could.

A growl slipped from the werewolf's muzzle and its lips curled up, barring its deadly fangs. Sharp, intelligent eyes watched Al as the werewolf took a slow measured step towards him, followed by another. It knew he wasn't going anywhere, and it was taunting him, taking its time. Then, the werewolf's muscles tensed and Al knew he only had seconds before the werewolf pounced.

"Stupefy!" Al shouted.

The spell hit the werewolf dead on and, for a second, the beast stilled, but then it just shook its great head, as if warding off a pesky fly. And then, it pounced. Air rushed passed Al and he slammed into the hard ground, lights bursting in front of his eyes. His wrist smashed against the ground with a sickening crunch that sent paid flooding through him and his wand flew from his grasp. Sharp claws dug into his chest and he gritted his teeth, the werewolf's crushing weight pinning him to the ground. He tried to search for his wand, but the slightest movement sent pain shooting up his arm. It was futile. There was nothing he could do, but watch, his chest heaving for air, his lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, as the werewolf lowered its large head, jaws open, and buried its teeth into his shoulder.

Excruciating pain exploded in his shoulder and crashed throughout his body, searing through his veins like molten fire. His mouth opened in a silent, agonized scream as his body convulsed violently beneath the heavy weight of the beast. Black crept over his vision as a broken, choked sob escaped his lips, the only sound he could manage to make as the pain sent every nerve in his body alight. He heard yelling in the distance and then, everything went black.

:::

Pain. It was the first thing Al became aware of as he slowly opened his eyes, sleep receding from his grasps. The pain was a constant thrumming in his right shoulder, throbbing in time with his own heartbeat. Not pleasant, but not the unbearable pain he had experienced before passing out. Al blinked into the bright light above him, disoriented. His thoughts were foggy and heavy, as if he had been asleep for a long time.

Where was he?

As his eyes adjusted to the light, a pristine white ceiling met his gaze and he became away of the scent of cleaners. Immediately, it clicked where he was, the putrid, nauseous fumes of cleaners and sickness a telltale giveaway that he was in a hospital. Something squeezed his hand and with great effort, Al tore his gaze away from the ceiling to look at the source. His mother stood beside him, his hand clasped tightly in both of hers. Her head was bent, a curtain of red-hair blocking her face from view. She was shaking. It was then that Al became aware of the sound of sniffling and unsteady breaths all around him. Who was crying and why? He tried to return his mother's squeeze, but the second he flexed his right arm, scorching, burning pain shot through him. He cried out, gritting his teeth as tears sprung in his eyes. His shoulder felt as if it was on fire.

"Don't move," Ginny instructed him soothingly, wiping his bangs off his sweaty forehead with gentle fingers. Finally, Al caught a look at her face. It was blotched red with tears. "Don't move. Just relax, sweetie."

The cool touch of her fingertips helped ground him and the fog that clouded his mind began to receded. And then, sharp, cold reality set in. He was bitten, by a werewolf. He could still remembered the exact feeling of the werewolf's teeth sinking into his flesh. An unsteady breath bordering on a sob left him, but this time it had nothing to do with the pain. He suddenly understood why his mother was crying, why _everyone_ was crying—nearly his whole family was there he realized now with a quick glance around, his room a sea of red hair. Men in his family that he had never seen shed a tear in his whole life now had misty eyes as they looked at him.

"I'm going to turn, aren't I?" Al asked, trying to sound as brave as possible as the words left him. Nobody spoke. Ginny let out a broken sound and pressed her hand against her mouth, and Lily, who Al suddenly noticed was sitting in a chair beside him, bent over his bed by his legs, dissolved into sobs, her head buried into her arms and the covers. That was all the answer he needed.

Al took a deep, steadying breath that did absolutely nothing against the panic and fear flooding through him. He was infected and he knew there was no cure. His eyes prickled uncomfortably and he closed them, fighting back the tears that threatened to well. As much as he wanted to scream and cry, he couldn't, not when his family members were already so distraught, not when Lily, a girl who never cried, was sobbing harder than Al had ever heard anyone cry in his life. The sound tore at his heart, but at the same time it gave him the strength to hold in his own tears. When he opened his eyes again, the tears were gone.

"Did anybody else get hurt?" Al asked.

Nobody answered at first, everyone except Lily just staring at him. Then, Rose broke the silence. '

"No," She said, and there was an emotion in her voice he couldn't place, one he had never heard it contain before. "The werewolf ran away after it..."

She didn't finish, unable to.

"Good," Al said. "How long do I have to stay at St. Mungos?"

"Two weeks, at least," Rose told him.

Al swallowed inaudibly. Two weeks at St. Mungos, a hospital where magic and potions were used to heal patients, was almost unheard of outside of the long-term care ward. As if being infected with a virus that had no cure wasn't bad enough, he was mangled enough to require a two week stay. A horrible, gnawing part of him wanted to see his shoulder, but another terrified part overwhelmed it. He was afraid of what he'd find. He tried to move his thought to something else and then something suddenly occurred to him.

"What about school?" Al asked. _Please_, he begged silently as panic filled him, _please don't say I can't go_.

It was Harry who answered, "We'll make arrangements to speak with McGonagall once you're discharged. You'll still be able to go to school—"

"How?" Al challenged, unable to stop himself. How could he possibly be allowed to go to school? It didn't matter that now and days people looked upon werewolves a little more favorably, he was still a monster and nobody wanted their children near a monster.

"There are precautions that can be taken," Harry said. His voice was tight and strained and exhausted, and immediately, all Al's desire to fight drained out of him. Never had he heard his dad sound so broken, and that scared him possibly more than anything.

He couldn't do this anymore. The burning in his throat increased and the prickling in his eyes returned.

"I'm tired," Al announced abruptly, voice tight. He purposefully ignored the looks everyone exchanged as he continued, voice a little sharper than he had intended, "I just want to sleep and I can't sleep with all of you hovering over me like I'm going to keel over and die at any second."

"Of course," Hermione said, clearing her throat. "You need your rest. Come on."

She tugged Ron and her children out of the room, and everybody else followed until it was just Al, his parents, Lily, and James.

"That included everybody," Al said quietly.

"Of course honey," Ginny said, collecting herself as best as she could. She gave him a kiss on his forehead, something she hadn't done since he was little, and then she collected Lily, physically having to pull her to her feet, and her, Lily, James, and Harry left. After a brief hesitation, Harry closed the door until it was open just a crack, giving Al his privacy.

Alone now, there was no reason to stop the tears. They filled his eyes, flooding over immediately, and his expression crumpled. He bit his lip to prevent the sobs wracking his body from escaping, allowing no sound to escape except for the gasping, shaky breaths he couldn't keep in. Just a few hours ago, he had been sitting at the fire, not a care in the world. How could this have happened to him?

* * *

I've had this fanfic sitting in my folder for a long, long time and I decided to finally get it up and posted. I've got like a dozen more Scorpius/Al fanfics I need to get posted as well ^^" Due to my inability to work on one thing at a time, I tend to start something, then start something else, and so on and until I've got a mess of unfinished fanfics. I've decided to crack down and get some of my Scorpius/Al fanfics up, because they're one of my all time favorite pairings. My goal is to get this fic posted and updated regularly as well as another Scorpius/Al fic I'm working on called _The Misfits_.

Note to my KevEdd followers (on the off chance you also ship Scorpius/Al): I haven't forgotten about _A Shot in the Dark _or _Lost at Sea_, I'm just lacking a little inspiration right now with those two.


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